Callsign
by Pearl Emerald
Summary: Felix Gaeta's confidante deals with the repercussions of the failed mutiny aboard Galactica. GaetaHoshi acknowledged, Aaron Kelly/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG or any of the characters. I just manipulate them in my free time.

**Callsign**

Chapter 1

I had known Felix Gaeta for eight years, a long time in layman's terms, but not so long when I considered that we were the last humans at the end of the world, that thousands of years of history had been blinked out of existence, that the entire human species would have to begin again, from the beginning, our cycle of life altered dramatically.

Four years before the beginning of this war, I had been a Communications assistant assigned to _Galactica_'s CIC_, _having just finished basic training. Felix and I had received our assignments together and were stationed together aboard the battlestar. We spent much time together, running errands and making our way up the ranks of the Colonial military, each eventually earning the rank of Lieutenant. Between work and sleep, we spent a lot of time talking, discussing sundry items and fleet-essential protocol alike, as well as our personal lives. Naturally, we became very close friends, but nothing more; even if there had been some sort of romantic feeling between us, Felix was more interested in the men of the fleet than the women, and I was the first that he told about his relationship with Louis Hoshi, fresh-transferred from _Pegasus._ And he was the first person I had told whenever I became attracted to a new, muscle-bound member of the fleet, as had been a frequent, frivolous occurrence.

Despite our relationship, I still didn't know how to address him, even after eight years, even after spending so much time together. I didn't know if I should call him Gaeta, or Lieutenant Gaeta, or Felix, his first name, or Alessandro, his second name. It was such a small thing, a name, but like many minutiae, names had become the defining mark for many survivors of the Cylon offensive against the Twelve Colonies. Without a particular moniker attached, some felt, we were only numbers, statistics in the battle to preserve the human race. Although I left behind the ability to fly when I was discharged, I kept the callsign my fellow pilots had bestowed upon me. To my comrades I was Lieutenant Philomela K. Sandry, but I was also "Sundance".

Felix and I had joked for years that we would give each other callsigns, nicknames like the ones given to Viper pilots and Raptor teams. However, such joking, like most forms of pleasure, had vanished from habit after the Cylon destruction of the 12 Colonies and a constant state of war had come into effect. Since the war began, I had been drafted by the Raptor pilots, and had been honorably discharged once my eyesight began to deteriorate to the point of needing corrective eyewear. After my discharge, I opted to not leave _Galactica_ and live aboard the _Cybele_; I wanted to stay where I was familiar, and I didn't want to lose the only stability any of us had left. I returned to the CIC, assuming the duties of an officer of Communications, shortened to Comm Two. It was a strange method of job transition, but then, it was a strange war we were fighting. At the start, the future was the true ideal worth fighting for. After the debacle of settlement on New Caprica, the fleet had dwelled in the present, to make up for lost time and to forget the ultimate damage caused. But of late the present and the future had lost meaning, and the sole focus of much of the fleet was the past, and the ideal of revenge against computer-like beings that had nearly destroyed everything we knew. But the goal of revenge was not an easy one to attain, especially because now war had infected the crew of the fleet so that now we were fighting an internal war within the battlestar rather than bonding to fight against the Cylons.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG, much as I'd like to. Character/plot changes, etc. are mine.

**Callsign**

Chapter 2

Despite our relationship, it wasn't my closeness to Felix that prompted me to join in his mutiny. The idea of allowing Cylons aboard _Galactica_, let alone Cylon technology, when their technology was what had originally disabled Colonial defenses and allowed the initial invasion, crossed the line in my mind from absurd into dangerous. Unlike some members of the mutiny, like Skulls and Racetrack, I didn't think the Admiral was insane, or otherwise mentally incapacitated, for making the call. Like Narcho, I respected the Old Man, but just because Admiral Adama was a good leader didn't mean he was exempt from responsibility for making a stupid, and potentially dangerous, decision, especially one that could result in the downfall of the entire fleet, not to mention all remnants of human life. Not to mention the fact that the potential alliance between Cylon and human that could result had not ended well before. The scriptural saying of "all this has happened before, and will happen again" was coming true, and we, as the military force guarding the civilians, had a duty to ensure that the cycle referenced in liturgy would not come full circle. If that meant revolt, then we would revolt now, and suffer any consequences later.

After the discovery of the destroyed Earth, Felix had pulled a large group of _Galactica_'s crew into the pilot's recreation room, and had proposed the idea of mutiny, albeit in less incendiary terms than "mutiny". We volunteered for certain roles; some people would transport Vice President Zarek aboard _Galactica_ to assume political command, some people would keep the Admiral, the Quorum, and the Cylons aboard _Galactica_ under guard, and still others would guard hallways. I was assigned to relay communications between _Galactica_ and the fleet, a job which was not new, but an argument with Dylan Marcos, callsign "Scooter", on the night before the mutiny was slated to begin, landed me in sickbay. I had punched a wall, which left me with a broken right wrist, and thus unable to work for at least a few days, at most a week. My role changed; instead of passively working, I would be stationed outside of sickbay, keeping opposing forces from entering and raising an alarm.

Looking back, I thank the gods that my job had been minimal; by the time Starbuck and Baltar's lawyer had brought Longshot to sickbay, the mutiny had been overthrown. But by that time I had switched sides, and had joined Dr. Cottle in attempting to heal the wounded. And I was still trying to help three hours after Felix had been arrested, and the marines came for me.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As per the usual, I don't own BSG. I own plot changes, character manipulations, etc. instead.

It was about fourteen hours after Felix and Zarek had been taken into custody by Adama's marines, the last four hours of which I had spent sitting outside CIC in a state of numbness and blank-mindedness. I wasn't allowed to work at my station, as the President and the Admiral had wanted to question me. I had only just returned from _Colonial One_, and had not yet been able to obtain an escort to walk back to my rack to sleep; nobody was allowed to walk alone for now, unless Condition One was set. In lieu of sleeping quarters, I had been dozing in the hallway outside CIC, so tired that not even the constant yelling of marines and officers around me didn't bother me. I kept feeling flashbacks to the time right after the initial Cylon attack, when sleep was impossible due to jump requirements.

"Lieutenant Sandry?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at the direction of the voice. It belonged to a female marine, taller than my five-and-a-half feet, with curly brown hair cut short and rings of red and gray around her bloodshot eyes. She looked about eighteen years old. I stood up, and she saluted me. Despite the tiredness marking her face, she looked very familiar, but I couldn't place her.

I returned her salute. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, "I've been instructed to escort you to your quarters. I'm not supposed to apologize, sir, but I'm sorry they kept you sitting out here for hours."

I sighed. "I understand, private…"

"Samana Jaffee, sir." She checked her sidearm, and adjusted her helmet. "Let's go, sir, or we'll never leave." The marine led the way to the officers' quarters, and I let her lead me. There was something about her that seemed familiar; the hair, the eyes, perhaps? As we walked I mentally catalogued the people she resembled. I knew it would be strange to ask, but the past few days had been strange.

"Private Jaffee, do you have any family in the fleet?" I asked.

"Yes, sir." She paused. "No, sir. Not anymore." We reached the officers' quarters. I opened the door. "Why do you ask, sir?"

I rubbed my eyes. "You just look a lot like someone on this ship, but I can't remember who, it's been a long morning." As soon as I spoke, I knew it had been the wrong thing to mention; Jaffee's eyes filled with tears and her head drooped. I stepped inside. "Come in, marine. Let's talk." She hesitated. "Come on, you're not going to be able to do your job if you're crying." I put my arm around her shoulder and nudged her inside with me.

She stepped inside and I closed the hatch behind her. The lights were on, and most of the curtains in the room were open, revealing a lack of sleeping officers. I gestured toward the table. "Have a seat, Private."

She sat. "Thank you, sir." She removed her helmet. "Sir, I'm sorry for being a pain in the ass. I've only been at this a few months and I'm on my own now."

I offered my canteen to her, and she took a sip. "How old are you, Private?"

"Eighteen, sir. I had a, an older brother. Stewart Jaffee, private first class." She wiped her face and straightened her hair. "He was so proud of himself." She smiled a little. "He told me that the Admiral knew him by name." She looked down. "I guess he was too proud."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She smiled, but it was a twisted smile. "He was shot by marines, when he protecting the Admiral, at the beginning of this frakking mutiny." She closed her eyes. "Funny, isn't it? He was just a desk jockey, and the people who were supposed to be protecting the Admiral opened fire on him."

I could feel my face paling, feeling that, in some way, by complying with Felix's mutiny, I had helped to cause this boy's death.

"I'm sorry, sir, complaining to you," Jaffee's words interrupted my rage.

"No, marine, it's all right." I stood. "You're all by yourself now?" She nodded. "Being alone is a frakking awful way to go about, especially when you're young and at the end of the universe." I took my hair out of my ponytail. "I'm not your mother, and I'm sure as hell not your babysitter. But you and I both need a friend right now. You come find me the next time you need anything. Do you understand me, soldier?"

Jaffee got to her feet, replaced her helmet, and stood at attention. "Yes, sir."

I saluted her, and she replied. "Dismissed," I said. She turned to leave. "Oh, and Private, take five minutes and wash your face before reporting back for duty."

She turned and forced a smile. "I will, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG. Really. I own the plot changes and character adjustments, but that's it.

~Alone She Sleeps In The Shirt Of Man~

Aaron Kelly and I had been an official couple for nine months. In such a small, close group as the Colonial Fleet, secrets, especially those concerning romantic relationships, never stayed private. I knew there were bets placed in the Watch officers' rec room on when would get married already. Aaron was smart, and romantic, even after the hardening of spirit caused by the destruction of the colonies. He was part of a two-man team, along with Fekete Sarkani, known for his large dragon tattoo; where Feka was the joker, Aaron was the straight man. If he was easily influenced and often prudish, I was stubborn and prone to cursing; it was a perfect match. But even though we loved each other, I was angry that he had killed a civilian, one of the lawyers representing Gaius Baltar, and was somewhat glad that he had been placed in the brig for it (a better option than being pitched out of an airlock for killing civilians and disrupting government efficiency).

At this point I was angry and sleepy, and didn't care about who was going to bear the brunt of it. I had punched walls before, the result of which was the broken wrist that had landed me in sickbay during Gaeta's coup (although, to be fair, I had meant to punch Dylan; I had missed his face and got the wall behind him instead). I wanted to hit a person, and then just wanted to go to sleep; I was too tired to care anymore.

Aaron's bunk was conveniently in the same area as mine, but he was not there. I was sitting on my bunk in the officers' quarters on C deck, and the door was closed and the room empty. I could hear the people outside in the corridors and put my head under my blanket so I didn't have to hear them. I couldn't block out the noise, and this just frustrated me more. I got out of the bunk and went to the comm phone in the corner. I dialed the code for CIC, and after a few seconds someone picked up.

"CIC." It was Hoshi, and he sounded exhausted.

"Hoshi, it's Sandry. Aaron Kelly, where is he?" I asked.

He sighed, and I could see him rubbing the bridge of his nose, as he was wont to do. "Not here, Philomela."

"I figured as much. Where is he?"

Hoshi sighed. "One second." The line was muffled for a bit, and then Hoshi came back on the line. "Philomela, he's being held on E deck."

I said a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn't being held aboard the _Astral Queen_, where most of the other rebels were being held. "Thanks, Hoshi." I hung up and went back to sit on my bunk, wondering what to do. Deciding to go to E deck, I put on my boots and a black overshirt, and put my hair in a regulation bun. I decided against straightening my bed, and walked out of the cabin.

Apparently the rule of necessary escorts had been rescinded, for which I was grateful. I walked alone, and before I knew it, I came to the temporary brig arranged on E deck. I was so tired and angry that I couldn't tell that I had walked all the way there until I came to the door to one of the storage lockers. I approached the marines outside. "Let me in," I said.

The marines glanced at each other, and quietly debated the idea of letting inside the best friend of a mutineer. One of them replied "We can't do that, sir. Admiral's orders."

I tugged on my hair. "Is it against orders to wait in the hallway?"

They looked at each other again. "No," replied the same marine.

I sighed. "Well, then I'm going to wait." I sat on the floor in the hallway in front of where the marines stood. I would wait, and hopefully my anger would abate.

About ten minutes later, the hatch opened, and seven people exited, including Lieutenant Stefan Andridge and Captain Liane Sida, two of my drinking buddies. I watched, and Aaron exited last. He glanced down at me, and I glared up at him. He didn't look away.

The gunnery sergeant, who was evidently in charge, spoke with the marines at the door, and a new group of detainees entered the room, shutting the hatch behind them. I wanted to follow Aaron's group, but figured I would be refused. I looked up at the marines guarding the door. "Well?" I asked.

The marine who had been silent before replied this time. "They're off to talk to the Admiral and XO, sir. Don't know when they'll be back."

I weighed my options. I could go back to my bunk, which would be empty and cold. Or, I could stay where I was, with marines to guard me. I chose the second; I'd go back later. "I'll wait, then."

"All right, sir." For the second time in a day, I dozed off in a hallway.

I don't know how long I had been asleep when the light touch of a warm hand on my forehead woke me, and without thinking I reached up and twisted the hand back into a painful defensive grip position.

"Ow! Frak, Philomela!" I let go, recognizing Aaron's voice. I opened my eyes and saw him crouched on the floor in front of me, holding his left hand. I couldn't say anything; the anger had vanished while I slept, but I was just drained now, and beyond speaking. I just looked at him, and he took in the unruly state of my hair and clothing. He stood, and pulled me to my feet. I fell down, and couldn't get up. Aaron picked me up, put my arm over his shoulder, and walked me back to our quarters. Walked is a generous term; he half-dragged me up two decks until we reached the officers' quarters.

I heard Aaron say something to the marine at the door, and the marine opened the hatch. We went inside; the room was no longer empty. There were some bunks occupied, and the curtains drawn. He led me over to my bunk and sat me down. He took off my shoes and my overshirt, and took a pair of sweat pants out of my locker. He gently eased my regulation pants off, and eased the sweat pants over my legs. He laid me in the bed on my side, and then removed his shoes and jacket, and got into my bunk with me. He pulled the blanket over both of us and shut my bunk's curtains, and stroked my hair until I fell asleep. We both slept for a long time then, curled around each other, without dreams.

I awoke suddenly with a jerk, dislodging Aaron's hand from my waist and waking him up. "What's going on?" he asked sleepily.

"Mm." I felt pressure behind my eyes, and fuzziness in my head. "Nothing. I just woke up. Go back to sleep."

"No," he said, pulling me back against him. "I've barely seen you for three weeks between me being in the brig and you on duty. I'm not just going back to sleep."

I brought my knees close to my chest. "I'm really not in the mood, Aaron." Realizing that this sounded rather harsh, I tried to remedy it. "I missed you too, but I think we need to talk."

He groaned. "I had a feeling." I sat up, and got out of the bunk, the harshness of the room's lights making me squint, and sat on one of the hard chairs, and Aaron sat up. He waved his hand. "Talk away."

I tried to think of how to ask my questions, and failed. I tried again. "Why?"

"Why what?" he asked.

"Why everything. Why did you kill Baltar's lawyer? Why did we side with Felix, why aren't you still in the brig? Why did you change your mind?" I stopped, out of breath. "Actually, why _aren't_ you still in the brig?" I asked.

He thought for a second, and then swung his legs over the side of the bunk. "You already know why I killed the lawyers; I didn't think Baltar deserved the benefit of a trial, between New Caprica and working with the Cylons afterward. It was an incredibly stupid thing for me to do, and I deserve all of the brig time I served." He scratched his ear. "I was in the brig during the trial, but I still heard Lee's testimony, and you know, he was right. Baltar's still human, even if he made some poor calls. And I'm not in the brig for a few reasons. First," he enumerated on his fingers, "the Old Man thinks that more brig time isn't going to do me any good. Second, they need more people in CIC now, even though security's going to be tighter for all of us. Third," he paused, "and you're not going to like this."

"What?" I asked.

"I've been demoted to Lieutenant, and they're going to be keeping an eye on me for a while," he said, embarrassed.

I shrugged; it wasn't as bad as it could have been. "At least you're alive and not going to be airlocked."

Aaron shrugged. "Guess so." He smiled suddenly. "Besides, it's not like the pay is so much better as a captain than as an LT." I didn't smile in return, and he frowned again. "You know what changed my mind? It was hearing Zarek give the order to kill the Quorum. I heard the gunfire, and I heard them screaming, and I did nothing. Nothing. And that broke me, that, and when Narcho brought me with him to kill the Admiral, I walked away and-" he put his head in his hands "-I sat and cried in the memorial hallway, like a baby. Gods, that's pathetic." I didn't say anything. "I knew what he was going to do, and again, I did nothing. Now that I think, I could have helped, in some way, but at the time I did nothing. And I'm always going to wonder if I could have helped someone else, or done something, instead of just wallowing." Aaron stopped, and looked down at the floor. I let him think until he was ready to continue. He cleared his throat. "After that, Apollo and Tigh found me and we got to Narcho. We met up with some others on the way to CIC, and then we took down the mutiny, brick by brick."

I took Aaron's hand. He squeezed my hand. "Now, I want to know something. Why did you defect? Was the wrist thing a front?"

I felt my wrist; it still hurt, but would heal. "No, the wrist was an accident, but I think now it was a happy accident. I would have gone with Felix, you know, and with the marines. But I broke too, I guess. I was in sickbay, distracting Cottle and the nurses like I was supposed to, but then I heard the shots outside sickbay and saw people being carted in, and I don't know what happened, but I grabbed my sidearm and started to track down the Admiral. I met up with some marines, and it took a long time and a lot of ammo, but we somehow found your group." I got up, but promptly fell down. Aaron got up and picked me up and put me back on the bunk.

"What happened?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

I made a face. "Nothing, besides getting knocked around trying not to get killed, and taking over and retaking a large military vessel. I just hurt a little."

He tucked me into my bunk. "Well, unless you're absolutely needed, you're staying here to rest."

I smiled. "Who are you, Doc Cottle?"

Aaron pretended to light and smoke a cigarette, and grumbled, "Yeah." I giggled at his somewhat accurate impression.

"What about you?" I asked. "Are you all right?" I smacked myself. "How could I not have asked?"

He sat on the bunk, and I curled my legs so he could sit next to me. "You had a lot on your mind."

"So did you," I muttered.

Aaron shrugged. "Besides a few scratches and cuts, I'm somehow fine." He leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Especially now that you're back with me." He lightly stroked my hair. "There's something else that I want to know." He started to fidget. "Why did you defect? I know you would have joined with Felix, he's your friend, and I know you think he's right. So why?"

I was silent for a second, and then sat up, disrupting my blanket, and positioning myself next to Aaron. "It was a lot of things," I said. "Felix was right about some things. I don't think the Old Man was right to let Cylons aboard. Yes, I'm Gemenese, and yes, I understand when one group beats down on the other and creates a problem. But genocide, and not even of the human race, but of natural life on all of the Colonies…I don't have words to describe how wrong that is. Nobody does. I thought nothing was worse than when those two thousand monotheists on Tauron were killed two hundred years ago, for no reason other than believing in one god, not many. But I was wrong." I pulled my hair out of the bun. "We all were wrong. I was wrong when I thought that seeking revenge against the Cylons was a better idea than updating the FTLs. I thought that making bigger crews to repair broken FTLs would create more jobs for the civvies to keep them out of trouble. Which, by the way, might have worked before. But not now. And I was wrong in assuming that Felix Gaeta didn't have the balls to kill civilians and military alike to prove a point." I looked at the floor. "When I heard the shots outside of sickbay, I couldn't do it. I couldn't distract Cottle. There are thirty thousand of us left, of a species that numbered in the billions. We need every person we have, and we need to grow again, or die out. But it has to be all of us surviving, or all of us dying out. It's not for us to decide who lives or dies because of the Admiral's poor call, or Tom Zarek's ego." I stopped, realizing that I was crying. I leaned against Aaron, and he put his arm around me. He started to say something, but I stopped him. "It was something else, though. You know how I am about children, and how I have the maternal instinct down, even without having my own kids." I tried to breathe, remembering scenes from sickbay earlier that day. "Among all of the marines, and the officers, and the civilians carted into sickbay, I saw children. Teenagers, but also children barely old enough to be out of daycare. How they got involved, I don't know, and I don't care. What I know is that they were injured, and could have died. And that," I was sobbing now, "is exactly when something in my mind clicked, and I switched sides."

I put my head in my hands and bawled like a child myself. I don't know how long I cried, but I cried until I couldn't breathe, and until tears no longer came. Aaron rubbed my back and let me cry, without saying a word. When I stopped crying, I tried to get up and reach my sidearm. I wanted to shoot something, my pillow, my locker, myself, I didn't care. Aaron held me down, and I struggled against him, trying to get up, but he pinned my arms behind me. I kept struggling, and started kicking the air and the chairs, trying to get up. Seeing that keeping me in an armlock wasn't doing any good, he tried a different approach. He turned my head toward his and kissed me. It worked; I stopped wiggling after a few minutes. Aaron let me go and lifted the blanket so we could both get underneath.

He held me for a few minutes, until my breathing became normal again, and then he sat back up. He pulled my wrist toward him, and examined it closely. He got up and rummaged about in his locker until he found what he was looking for, a pair of socks. He came and sat back down, and unfolded the socks. He looked at me, and then pulled something out of the sock. He took my left hand, and held up a gold ring. I looked at him, unable to speak. Aaron got off of the bed, and knelt on the floor next to the bunk. I sat up.

He opened his mouth, and then closed it. He cleared his throat. "Philomela Kai Sandry, I have known you for four years. It's not a long time, but since we've known each other you have been my friend, and my rock. I'm no poet, and I know that, but I don't need to be a writer to tell you that I love you, and at the end of the universe, when we could die at any time, I want to spend all time I have left in this life with you. So, will you marry me?"

I sat on the bed for what felt like forever, but what was probably only a few seconds, before getting up slowly, raising Aaron up off of the floor, and kissing him.

"Yes," I said. "You silly frakker, I thought you'd never ask."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG. I own character twists, but that's about it.

~Finality~

I knew they were going to shoot him, or, at the very least, throw him out of an airlock. It was inevitable; William Adama was no Helena Cain, but his capacity for forgiveness had shrunk significantly since the airlift from New Caprica, and had nearly disappeared after the XO, his closest friend, revealed that he was a Cylon. It was easy to grant a blanket amnesty when the villain had no conscious idea that he was one of the enemy, but it was not so easy to grant amnesty to someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and knew exactly what would happen to him should he fail. And even if the blanket amnesty had not been in effect, murder was still a punishable crime, and raising a mutiny granted a death sentence.

But even though I knew they were going to shoot him, I was afraid, and thought myself a spineless coward whose only concrete feeling was in the fact that she knew she was a coward. I didn't want to face my closest friend in the universe; I was not ashamed that I had involved myself in his mutiny at all, but I was ashamed that I had tucked tail and run, despite my assurances that I would follow through with my orders and expectations. I didn't want to face Felix Gaeta, but when the word came down to me from the Admiral himself that Felix wanted to see me, I couldn't refuse. So two days after the mutiny was broken, I, flanked by marines, including Samana Jaffee, went to the brig to pass some time with the man who came so close to shattering the entire Colonial force.

He was shackled, which I had expected, but looked none the worse for wear, despite his severed leg and the fact that he was one of the most hated men in the fleet. I could have reached out and ruffled his hair, which had grown long since the Cylon offensive, and it would have felt like nothing had changed. I wanted to smile, but it would have been false, and he would have seen right through it. Instead, I came and sat next to him, pulling two bags of tea out of my pants pockets. It was a tradition we had; despite being the Chief Officer of the Watch, and constantly needing to be on call for the various crises that arose in CIC, Felix preferred tea instead of high-stimulant coffee, and our various conversations involved a pot of hot tea, of assorted brews. I asked one of the marines for some hot water, and he saluted and left. I looked up at Felix.

I sighed. "Hey."

He glanced at me, and scratched his nose. "Hey, Philomela."

There was a silence, during which time the marine returned with two mugs of hot water. I thanked him, and placed the teabags in the water to let them steep. We remained silent, until Felix broke the quiet. "It was never this quiet between us, Philomela."

I fiddled with my hair, an old habit. "You were never under guard in the brig before. Things change."

Felix grinned. "You always did have a wonderful gift for understatement." He took a sip of tea. "Thanks, by the way. I missed the tea."

"It's no problem," I said. "We still have a lot of algae left over from refining it for protein. The coffee's still crap, but tea's gotten a bit better." I took a sip.

Felix put down the cup. "Look, let's not beat around the bush. I don't know why you decided to defect. I imagine that you don't want to be here. If I know you, you're angry with yourself for reneging on a promise you made to me." He sighed. "You're my best friend here, and much as I want to be angry with you, I'd be a gods-damned hypocrite if I was angry at you for doing something you thought was right."

I looked at my tea. "You're right, I really didn't want to see you, and I'm going to feel guilty for a long time." I waved at the air. "It's in the past now, I guess. We need every man we've got in CIC, and now none of us can afford to dwell on the past, at this juncture." The figure of Louis Hoshi hovered in the air, the proverbial elephant in the room that neither of us wanted to mention. "Have you seen Hoshi?"

Felix shook his head. "There was a reason why I broke off our relationship. He's too good a man to get sucked into whatever foolish idea someone devised, and I knew he would never follow my command willingly. I tried to do him a favor, but I don't think he realized it until now."

"That was good of you, I guess." I frowned. "But it makes me curious about one thing. Do you mind if I ask you something?"

He shrugged. "If I never minded before, I'm not going to mind now."

I fiddled with the cup of tea. "From what you're telling me about Hoshi, it sounds to me like you knew this thing was going to fail from the start. Why else would you spare him?"

Felix thought for a second. "There's always a chance that an operation will fail; it's a mathematical certainty, at times. I knew that if I failed, I would die. But if I succeeded, he would hate me. I figured that if I was going to play with fate, I might as well cut all of our ties, all the way." He smiled. "Infatuation is a funny thing."

"It is that." We both drank again, and looked at each other. At the same time, we both sighed heavily, and this caused us to giggle for some inexplicable reason. This led to laughter, which lasted for a good few minutes until we both calmed down. We drank again.

"Now, I'm curious about something," Felix said.

"That's a shock," I replied.

"They questioned you, didn't they?" Felix's words contained no trace of sarcasm, or joy. He seemed tired, and weary of the responsibilities of his life. "I assumed they would, but I didn't think that both of them would."

I shuddered, remembering the interrogation I had faced aboard _Colonial One_. I knew that I had deserved harsh questioning; it was the right of the head of command to question whomever he wished. But I had felt more than uneasy aboard the freighter, and I didn't know why. It was not an interrogation room like the ones I had seen at the Colonial base on Tauron. There were chairs, a table, a desk, and reference books, but it was still hard to forget that I was sitting under guard aboard the freighter _Colonial One_, summoned by Admiral William Adama and President Laura Roslin themselves, to answer for my actions in Felix Gaeta's failed military coup. I shuddered, and didn't answer.

"You know, I was wondering why you changed sides in this, this coup, this debate, this revolution, whatever you want to call it. This failure, if you like."

I looked down at my hands. "I don't like." I fidgeted. "Go on, you're going to beat it out of me anyway."

Felix smirked. "Was it because of Aaron?"

I smacked him upside the head, as I had always done. The surprised look on his face made me giggle unexpectedly. "No, you silly frakker, it wasn't. I had my reasons."

"Which were?"

I sighed. Felix Gaeta was not one to let a debate end, or an argument rest, and he had always been able to wear me down when I withheld some piece of arcane information from him.

"It was a lot of things," I said honestly. "You were right. But so was the Admiral. And both of you were wrong. And both of you are answering for it. This whole fleet is answering for all of your mistakes." I stopped, thinking. "But if I were to condemn you based on your mistakes, I'd be just as culpable. So I won't."

Felix smiled. "You sound like Apollo."

I groaned. "I _know_, and it pains me."

"It's not that bad. Actually, it would be quite endearing if you, I don't know, started pacing around the pilot rec room half-naked and flaunting your muscles."

"I don't know, I'm already awful at triad; everything else might just be a little much." I was reminded of something, while we were joking. "Speaking of over-inflated egos, has the good doctor Baltar been to pay a call?" I asked.

Felix's smile disappeared. "Yes, actually, he was here not too long before you were." I waited. "I wouldn't let him talk religion, or politics, so he just let me babble for a while." He lit a cigarette. "You know, I looked up to him so much. It used to be fun to watch him emote all over the floor. And then…" he trailed off. I remembered; after the evacuation of New Caprica, Felix had been near-broken, his respect for Baltar shattered.

"Yes, I know, and didn't you also think that perjuring yourself was a _good_ idea for getting back at him?"

Felix sighed. "And you're going to censure me for that? I was right."

"I'm not getting into an argument with you about this. Ever since that damned trial we've been arguing about the verdict, the testimony, the witnesses. Enough," I said.

"Fine, fine. Oh, by the way, how is Aaron? I hear he defected during the mutiny, and helped Adama take down Narcho's firing squad."

I looked down at my hands. "He's all right. He's been demoted to Lieutenant and he's still the LSO, but they're keeping an eye on him." I shrugged. "The old man wasn't terribly happy with what he did, defector or no. Not to mention that the admiral was still angry about that whole Baltar lawyer thing."

"And you?" Felix smirked. "Are you mad at him, too?"

"Well, I wasn't too happy with the idea of him shooting the Admiral, or whatever you would have had him do, but I'm glad he didn't do anything terribly stupid." I smiled. "But I do have something to tell you, though."

"Oh, really?"

I grinned at Felix. "So, we're getting married tonight. It's all of a sudden, but I figure that life is just too frakking short, Felix. If we've managed to stay together for nine months, then we're going to stay together for the rest of however long we live."

Felix smiled, and then laughed.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

He kept laughing. "I win."

"What do you win?"

"I won the bet!"

"_What?"_

" I bet that you would get married nine months in."

My mouth dropped. "Felix Alessandro Gaeta! _You_ placed a bet?"

He shrugged. "Wild guess. I also know you and that you would have talked him into it eventually. The timing just happened to be a coincidence."

I ruffled his hair. "You know I don't believe in coincidences."

He put out his cigarette. "You never change, do you?"

"Nope." I grinned. "So, how much did you win?"

He reached down and rubbed his stump leg where it met the metal piece. "Well, I would have won a bottle of ambrosia." Felix smiled wryly. "It's not like I'm going to get to collect on it, though."

I reached out, wanting to touch his arm. He pulled away, just a bit, but it was enough. He smiled slightly. "Well, you'll have to go and claim it for me." He winked. "Drink it at the wedding party, and raise a glass for me."

I raised my eyebrows. "What party? We're still at war, you know. We've just suffered tremendous loss."

"All the more reason to have a party, then. The ambrosia won't drink itself." Felix rubbed his leg stump again. The marines at the door shifted, and one cleared her throat. Our time together was over. I wanted to tell Felix goodbye, somehow. I recalled the many conversations we had had about nicknames, and I remembered an epiphany I had had during the mutiny, in a flash of euphoria and terror, of a callsign I could finally use for him. As he stood to let the marine lead him away, I stood and gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead. The marines cuffed him, but before they could lead him away I had to tell him.

"You know Felix, we always joked about callsigns, and how we had to only settle for mere nicknames. You remember, all of those stupid discussions?" He nodded. "And then I got a callsign, and you didn't, and we were always thinking up ridiculous names. What's in a name, sort of thing. I guess I should thank you, and your mutiny, then. I finally thought of one, when I was hiding in the memorial hallway, not getting involved." I remained at attention, but swallowed hard. "I'm no CAG, but I think at this point, I can bestow upon you the callsign of Havoc." He nodded once, in acceptance. I reached out, and then I walked over to him, and hugged him. I kissed him on both cheeks, Gemenese-style, and the marines led him away. I remained standing for a long time after that.

_See you on the other side._


	6. Chapter 6

1

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG. I own Sundance and her story, but that's it.

~Epilogue~

I didn't watch the execution. This time, it wasn't because I was a coward, because now I was not afraid to see my comrades die in combat. It wasn't that I wanted to pay my respects to one of my closest friends; because he was my friend, he had my respect already. In this instance, I simply did as I was ordered, which was to remain in CIC. I was needed there, especially now that there were people missing, dead or incarcerated aboard the _Astral Queen_. I could have requested leave; Gaius Baltar had received permission to attend. But I was done disobeying orders from military superiors, and I sat quietly at my post, and did my job, relaying the growing amount of communications throughout the fleet, and throughout the ship. And I kept my mouth shut.

Instead of watching my friend die, I went, alone, to the hall of memories and lost faces. I placed a picture of him on the memorial wall, right where Aaron had been sitting when Apollo's group found him during the mutiny. I prayed for him; in a way, Gaeta had been just as innocent a victim of this Cylon War as any child on one of the Colonies who didn't know what was happening as bombs fell around him. I didn't mourn him publicly. How could I? Instead, the night after he was executed, the night I married Aaron, I went into the head by my quarters, tied my blond hair, darker now than before the Cylon offensive, into a braid, removed my knife from my belt, and cut off the hair. I threw it into the disposal container in the head, and showered to remove the scum of the mutiny from my body and from my mind. At least, for a while, until the next time.


End file.
